


When The Party’s Over

by orphan_account



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Nicola’s Reaction To Becoming Leader, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nicola doubts herself after becoming leader of the opposition.
Relationships: Nicola Murray/Malcolm Tucker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	When The Party’s Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressOfObscurity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfObscurity/gifts).



Ever since she was a little girl Nicola has recognised the signs of an impending panic attack. It starts the same way every time; in her mind. Whatever that’s making her feel anxious clings to her brain like a leech, until she can’t think about anything else. All rational thoughts go out the window; and even she knows she’s over reacting she can’t help but panic. As it is with any chronic illness, her anxiety refuses to budge and she has to go through the motions.

She begins to sweat, starting from her forehead, then her palms, even the back of her legs. And it gets harder and harder to breathe, until she feels like she’s going to suffocate and the room she’s in spins. Which ultimately she knowns will make her vomit. 

Years of this means that half way through a conversation with Ollie, she has the foresight to excuse herself and then discretely manoeuvre herself through everyone in the room until she makes it to a door marked -STAFF ONLY-.

She’s been to enough functions like this by now to know that finding a staff route would lead to a back entrance. Which is much preferable to the front where photographers were waiting for her to slip up under the flash of their cameras. 

Once she finds the door she’s been looking for she dramatically flings it open and practically hurls herself outside into the cool air. The door slams back shut somewhere behind her but Nicola is to busy retching onto the concrete in front of her to care.

She bends forward with both arms clutching around her abdomen and watches as the mostly watery vomit splashes onto the ground and gets onto her Prada stilettos. James had brought them for her as a gift for her 45th Birthday last year. Even though he knew she hated to walk in heels. And she’d actually pointed out a pair of elegant flats she liked. James preferred how she looked in heels though, so she knew she’d never see the shoes she wanted again.

He’ll be furious and call her an ungrateful bitch later when he sees the state of the pradas, and she’s already dreading the rant he will have about money, and how she doesn’t know the value of it. But right now that was the least of her worries. Nicola closes her eyes when she realises they’ve begun to sting and she can feel her mascara running down her cheeks. So much for waterproof, she thinks. Then tries to regulate her breathing. Fuck, she needs to pull herself together before someone sees her in this state. After all this was her celebration. Everyone was here because that morning she’d become the new Leader of the Opposition. The thought makes her feel queasy and she throws up again. 

Once the entire contents of her stomach is emptied she opens her eyes and slowly stands up properly again. There’s a bad taste in her mouth and she uses the sleeve of her dark plum dress to wipe at her eyes; only to make more of a mess. She doesn’t know where she’s left her hand bag, but wishes she had it with her so she could fix her face before going back in. Which she knows she would have to sooner rather than later, before they sent a search party to her. Nicola exhales sharply through her nose, and tries to remember the breathing exercises her therapist had taught her.

She hears the door open behind her and assumes it’s Ollie or one of her new people coming to find her, “I’ll be back in now,” she sighs as she turns around with a hand squeezing the bridge of her nose. 

“Like Hell you will looking like that.” A familiar Scottish accent snaps at her and her eyes widen a fraction. She hasn’t spoken to Malcolm since her win, he’d nodded in her direction after her speech to the press, but that was it. 

“Malcolm,” she says with a frown and her hand drops down to her side, “what are you doing here?” 

He scratches the top of his head in a sarcastic show, “hmm, I don’t know, maybe when the new leader decides to do a runner out of her own victory party in front of photographers and half of the fucking cabinet I got concerned.” 

“Really?” Nicola asks slightly hopeful but her eyes narrow warily. 

“Oh aye. Maybe, just maybe I thought it best find you before you did something stupid like throw up all over yourself like you’re a piss head teenager after one to many WKDs, then casually walk back into the room looking like someone from KISS.” He yells at her and she wishes she hadn’t been so dim as to think he actually cared about her wellbeing.

Malcolm takes a breath from his tirade but clearly isn’t finished. “I mean for fuck sake. You’ve somehow managed to get to the top of the ladder and you’re still intent on fucking it all up. You’ve not been leader an entire day yet. At least enjoy a week of it first before ruining it all with some retarded stunt.” He shouts at her while gesturing dramatically with his hands.

Nicola has to clench her jaw to stop herself from arguing back. Usually she would but right now she is just to tired to even bother. So she just rolls her eyes and counts to ten in her head before calmly nodding, “if you’re quite done I’ll go find a ladies room to tidy myself up before going back in. Thank you as always for the pep talk Malcolm.” She says as stoically as she can manage before making her way past him towards the door.

He grabs her clavicle though to stop her, “what and let the staff see you and sell a story to the news of the world? I don’t think so.”

Nicola glances at his hand on her arm then back up to him and her eyes harden, “so what you’re going to keep me her indefinitely? Fantastic plan, groundbreaking. But like you just said, I need to get back in, so let go of me.”

Malcolm sneers at her but let’s go of her arm. “I’m taking you to the bathroom myself, so I can make sure no one sees you. And that you don’t get lost on the way.” 

She looks at him dumbfounded and actually laughs, “you can’t be bloody serious, I’m a grown woman.”

“You’re a liability is what you are. Now stop stalling and follow me,” he says and turns towards the door. He opens it and peers through, as if making sure the coast was clear.

“This is ridiculous.” She hisses behind him, “I’m not a liability I’m your leader.”

“Aye, we’ll see for how long,” he says darkly and reaches blindly behind him until he grabs her hand so he can lead her down the service corridor and into the nearest ladies room. 

Once they get to the door he ushers her in and let’s go of her hand. There’s no one else there but he kicks open every stall door just incase. Nicola leans against one of the sinks and crosses her arms, “okay you got me in here, you can go now.” She says hoping he takes the hint .

Malcolm rounds back to her again, “I bet when you were a kid you were one of those spoilt middle class princesses. That’s probably why you’re so neurotic now. Had to grow up and find out the world isn’t a fucking fairy tale.” He jibes at her and Nicola flinches. Malcolm always seems to know what her sore points were and always went for the jugular. 

“Piss off, Malcolm.” She says weakly and turns around to face the mirror in front of the sink. It’s the first time she’s seen herself since being sick and crying and she’ll give one thing to Malcolm; she looks like she’s been dragged through a bush and back again. 

She looks at Malcolm through the mirror standing behind her and he has his ‘I told you so expression,’ on his face. She ignores him though and focuses on her task of sorting herself out. She turns the cold water tap on, but frowns when she realises there’s no tissues. As if he’s read her mind, Malcolm appears next to her with some and hands it to her. “Thanks,” she says with an appreciative smile. He merely shrugs his shoulders and takes a step back. 

Nicola wets the tissue and begins to dab at the mascara on her cheeks. But is aware of Malcolm watching her the whole time. “What is it?” She asks as she moves from her right cheek to her left with the wet tissue. She knows she’s ruining her foundation in the process, but at least she doesn’t look like a goth anymore.

“You cut your hair.” He simply says.

Nicola glances at him. “Oh, umm, yes, I did.” Then carries on looking at her own reflection. His comment makes her feel self conscious. She hates her new cut, but she was sick of the press always poking fun out of her unruly locks so she’d made they hasty decision cut into a short bob. She doesn’t feel like herself anymore; but she supposes that’s the point. She wasn’t Nicola Murray Cabinet Minister, she was Nicola Murray Leader of the Opposition. And her hair was supposed to be like a metaphor for that. 

“I preferred it longer,” Malcom continues and this makes Nicola freeze. She looks at is reflection again, but finds he’s looking down at his blackberry and not at her.

“Excuse me?” 

He doesn’t look up, but motions with one of his hands dismissively , “your hair, I liked it the way it was before. Made you look softer, more approachable.” He explains and she doesn’t know what to say.

First of all she’s shocked that Malcolm even pays attention to her hair, let alone has an opinion about it. But then again at the same time she knows it’s what he does best. Evaluate every single thing about her. 

Then there’s the fact that he’s possibly given her the most backhanded complement ever and thirdly, well, thirdly fuck him for adding to her list of anxieties.

Her chest heaves as she starts to breathe heavily again, she turns and uses the edge of the sink as leverage as she tries to control her breathing. 

Suddenly Malcolm is next to her again with one hand rubbing her back. She shrugs it off though, “fuck... off ...Malcolm!” She shouts in between breaths. 

He backs off immediately but doesn’t go very far away, “Jesus Christ, it’s just one persons opinion on your barnet, no need to have a fit.” He goes back into defence mode, as if he wasn’t just rubbing her back soothingly. “Look, it’s a lovely hair cut, very suave. Much better than your post Azkaban Bellatrix Lestrange look. Happy now?”

Nicola goes from wanting to cry to wanting to laugh. “how do you know who Bellatrix Lestrange is?” 

Malcolm shakes his head, “because I know everything, Nicola. It’s my job.” He says but Nicola doesn’t quite believe him. She’s reminded of the child’s drawings on his wall in Downing Street and assumes he must have a niece or nephew who likes Harry Potter. 

“Whatever you say.” She says and at least her breaths are becoming more normal. 

Malcolm’s looks at his watch, “right let’s get going,” he ushers her towards the door. 

“Wait, Malcolm.” Nicola says and he’s clearly irritated but just looks at her expectedly.

“What is it now?”

Nicola bites her bottom lip before speaking, “I don’t think I can do this.” She admits, and looks down to the floor, “the whole leader thing.”

Malcom looks at her with an unreadable expression. She assumes he’s about to shout at her but instead he just sighs. “You can do this.” He says. “Aye, you’re a dozy mare sometimes but the big difference between you and those vampires out there is that you care, you want to make a difference and that’s why you’re going to be leader.”

It’s quite possibly the most supportive he’s ever been towards her and she finds her eyes watering again, “do you really think so?” She sniffs and wipes at her eyes again.

“Fucking stop that,” he says and pulls her hand away from her face, “and don’t push it, I ain’t gonna say it again. Just trust me, as long as you’ve got fire in your belly for this position, I’ll help you.” He says with a grin, “but if you fuck this up, I’ll destroy you. Remember that as well.”  
He adds and Nicola shudders. How could someone be so nice and so frightening at the same time.

She looks at him seriously, “I’ll do my best.” She promises but can’t shake off the feeling of doom in the pit of her stomach.

“Then you’ll be fine.” Malcom promises back and looks at her curiously. He reaches forward and pushes back a strand of brunette hair behind her ear. She watches him dubiously but doesn’t question him. And after a quiet moment of shared calmness he drops his hand.

“I suppose we have to go back now,” Nicola sighs somewhat sadly.

“Aye, come on darlin’,” Malcolm agrees and moves to open the bathroom door for her, “let’s go feed the monsters.”

She raises an eye brow at his elusive comment, “I thought you said they were vampires.” She says as she ducks past him through the door.

“Same thing,” he huffs and follows after back to the party. Nicola shudders again but she knows what he means.

At least one good thing has come out of her panic attack, she thinks as she smiles to herself; she knows that Malcolm has her back, and that knowledge gives her more self confidence than anything else.

Maybe she would be a good leader after all.


End file.
